The Master & The Captain

The Master of Materialization had been a recurring customer of the Captain’s services for decades, yet their exchanges always carried a peculiar tension. From the top of the Giant Red Walker’s head, under the dim, shifting hues of a Night Day, their conversation took a strange turn.

“I hear you’re the best Captain alive. Is that true?” the Master asked, his voice smooth, almost mocking.

The Captain barely glanced at him, his tone dismissive. “That’s just talk.”

“I hear you can navigate any kind of beast,” the Master continued, undeterred.

The Captain crossed his arms, gaze fixed on the horizon. “Red Walkers, Feathered Mountains. Big or small, grounded or flying—it’s all the same in theory. But now, this is my ship.” He patted the Red Walker’s fur with a faint smile. “And I’ll likely be her last Captain. She’s been our home for 1,600 years. I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

The Master leaned forward, his tone growing sly. “How about… Giant People-Eaters?”

The Captain’s head snapped toward him, his expression hardening. “Blasphemy! You must be mad! What exactly are you planning?”

The Master’s grin widened, his confidence unshaken. “I’m a very wealthy and powerful man, Captain. I can pay you whatever you want. Make any problem you have disappear—” He snapped his fingers, the sound sharp in the quiet.

The Captain’s lip curled. “You’re sick. I don’t need your money or your tricks,” he spat. “I have all I need right here—my home, my crew, my daughter, my family. Everything. A true Captain never leaves his ship.”

The Master’s smile faltered for a moment, but his unsettling presence only grew stronger. His eyes gleamed with something dark, something the Captain felt but chose to ignore.

“I always get what I want,” the Master said softly, almost a whisper. “And I always find a way, Captain. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”